


The Son of Wisdom

by rebaobsessions



Series: Crossover Attempts [10]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Demigod!Spencer, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 22:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebaobsessions/pseuds/rebaobsessions
Summary: Spencer is many things. He's a profiler, an agent, an intellectual. He's a loyal friend, and a loving son. However he's so much more, as well. He's a warrior, a mage, and a brother. Needless to say, his lives are not meant to mix; he does things no FBI agent should and distances himself the politics of Olympus.This is a snapshot compilation of Spencer Reid's lives as a genius FBI agent and a son of Athena.





	The Son of Wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> I should really stop starting new projects, shouldn't I?  
> Anyway, this has been in the works for quite a while, but I finally finished the first one shot. I'm not certain where exactly I might go with this, but if I get struck by inspiration, I do plan to continue it. No promises on when though!

Spencer was not having a very good day. First of all, the team didn’t land back in Virginia until nearly midnight, and he didn’t get back to his apartment until after one in the morning. The case had been a hard one, but Spencer managed to crash after only half an hour of reading. But _then_ he was woken up at six by a poorly timed Iris message from a bunch of his concerned siblings. Why did they wake him up? Well, for one, they had _somehow_ failed to learn that he travels a lot for his job and is frequently around very, very, _very_ ordinary people, so if he can’t receive an Iris message, he is _NOT_ dead. For another, they’re absolutely insane and wake up at the crack of dawn. That’d be fine, but they expect him to wake up that early too!

Honestly, he couldn’t understand their incessant concern. He was _25_ years old! It wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself; his mother—Athena herself!— taught him how to manipulate the Mist in order to stay at least _mostly_ hidden. He was pretty sure she had done it in deference to his mom, the woman she had loved, who had once been brilliant in many respects (including Mist manipulation), but was no longer sound of mind. And his siblings knew this. Buuut… they ignored it. He supposed it showed how much they cared.

But it was still really annoying.

Spencer wasn’t complaining—not really. He loved having a family. His ‘father’ had abandoned him and his mom when he was quite small, and he had believed for years (exactly four years, three months, and six days) that they were alone. However, following his graduation from high school at the age of 12, he started to spend his summers at a camp. A camp in New York.

No one knew; there was no record of it. As far as his universities knew, and as far as the Bureau knows, he spent his summers at home with his mom— supporting her and taking online or take-home courses.

But really, that’s another story.

Anyway, Spencer had decided it wasn’t worth it to attempt an extra hour of rest following the conversation with his concerned siblings, and read until his normal wake-up time. Regardless, he found himself headed out for work on a total of four and a half hours of sleep. As such, he stopped to arm himself with a large coffee, even though he had to buy twice (he spilled the first one all over another coffee shop customer).

The bus ride to the shop was crowded, and he was certain the subway ride to work would be worse, but he was still looking forward to a slow day in the office. Spencer was determined to bury himself in files. As he strolled down the street, he pictured Derek’s reaction if he were to say he was looking forward to paperwork and chuckled to himself. It’d be good to see his best friend and have a few laughs after the case they’d just finished.

But, of course, it didn’t work out like that.

When Spencer turned the corner from the little coffee shop, he was confronted with the unpleasant sight of three _empousai_.  For a moment he held his breath and attempted to continue on his way, but it was in vain; their eyes quickly became locked upon him. This was the last thing he needed today. But, regardless, he knew they wouldn’t leave him alone. As such, he settled for huffing a sigh and ducking into the next alley. As he went, he twisted the Mist to ensure their privacy.

The three lop-sided monsters were right behind him, practically drooling. The two closest to him appeared to be seeing red, however the third—who was hanging back—frowned and looked him over. She seemed to be making note of his age and having second thoughts.

“You smell delicious, wisdom-boy,” one of them hissed.

The one standing next to her grinned, “We ate —I mean, _met_ — a guy just like you only a week ago! Didn’t we, Shannon?”

The first one nodded vigorously, “He was so… sweet.”

Spencer wasn’t impressed. It was the same dance, over and over.

“I would really appreciate it if you’d avoid spilling my coffee,” Spencer commented, “I already did that today.”

_This_ is why he hated monsters.

“Of _course_ , sweetheart, we wouldn’t dream of it!” the one who had slipped up and said ‘ate’ reassured him.

It wasn’t because they were slimy, bloodthirsty, no-good killers, who _hunted_ people like him.

“Right!” the one called Shannon jumped in, “Aly here will _totally_ hold it for you.”

No. _That_ was why they were the scum of the earth (as only Tartarus-spawn could be), but it wasn’t why he _hated_ them.

He raised his eyebrows at them and pointedly set his coffee down on a nearby dumpster.

“Hey, guys?” The third posited hesitantly, “Maybe we should let him go. I mean—”

Aly whipped around and hissed at her, “Are you _crazy_?”

The third shifted uncomfortably, “He’s just older than… And I mean, that means he’s more experienced. Right?”

Shannon snarled, her face contorting unnaturally for a human, “Shut up.”

Aly, meanwhile, redirected her attention to Spencer, “So what do you say, wisdom-boy?”

Shannon mirrored her smile, “Up for a little fun?”

Spencer couldn’t help rolling his eyes. How stupid did they think he was? Did they think he had lived under a rock for his entire life? Their charm was clearly not working, and he could definitely see them for what they were—ugly and mismatched with human, animal, and robot characteristics.

Seemingly satisfied with... whatever they were trying to do, they began to surround him, corner him. The third, as yet unnamed, _empousa_ hung back, however, still eyeing him suspiciously. Shannon entered arms reach, and Aly smiled… and Spencer decided he had enough data.

“You know,” he started suddenly, shocking the monsters into pausing their advance, “based on the sixty-eight _empousa_ encounters I’ve had—including this one, which takes the total number of _empousai_ I’ve met to 149, with an average of 2.2 _empousai_ per encounter—I have yet to experience more than three conversations with an _empousa_?”

As expected, the trio stared back blankly at him, their stances becoming lax in their confusion.

“And by that I don’t mean I’ve only spoken to three _empousai_ , because I’ve actually spoken to all but one group of _empousai_ I’ve ever met. What I mean is that out of all of those sixty-six—or, including this one, sixty-seven— conversations, there have only been three basic variations.”

Aly’s mouth crept open, giving her a slack-jawed look, while Shannon stared at him like he was speaking in Latin. The one in the back looked like she was about to bolt at any moment.

“The first variation is a clean, and sometimes elaborate, deception, mildly convincing with a back-story of some sort, meant to coerce me into a favorable situation for feeding. The second is a slightly messier deception, with clear references to my… impending death. The third, which is the most rare, happens when an _empousa_ notices how old I am and recognizes the fact that I have likely done all of this many times before.”

By this point, all three of them were looking skittish, and the third was backing away slowly. With a twist of the Mist, she found herself stuck in place. She let out a brief squeak before falling silent, eyes wide.

Spencer smiled and reached into his ever-present satchel, withdrawing his celestial bronze blade, “At this point in the conversation, 69% of _empousai_ in the groups I have done this with attempt to flee—”

Aly took a step back, eyes just as wide as the third’s, but Shannon leapt forward with a furious hiss. Anticipating something of the sort, Spencer ducked easily out of the way before coming around with his sword and effortlessly turning her to dust.

Spencer gave a weak cough and waved the fine, sticky, monster debris away from his face. He then turned to the remaining two, smiled, and continued what he had been saying, as though nothing had happened, “Of the remaining 31%, 21% fly into a rage and attack, 9% attack in a more orderly fashion, and 1% attempt to continue their deception anyway.”

Aly turned to flee and found the third _empousa_ stuck in place just behind her. Spencer stepped forward and took his opening. They both joined their friend within a few seconds.

Sometimes he felt bad about killing monsters, but then he reminded himself that they were simply back in Tartarus and would get a chance at life again soon enough. Demigods didn’t get that chance, so how could he let a monster go with a clear conscience? Better to kill each one you meet than find out later that a friend or sibling was killed by a monster you let go.

Spencer huffed a sigh and brushed his clothes off as best he could, still holding his compacted sword.

See, he hated monsters because they were utterly predictable. They repeated the same scenarios over and over again, never seeming to learn or show any sort of spontaneity. And worst of all, death was never permanent for them. They got a “get out of hell free card” every time they got plopped back in Tartarus.

It wasn’t fair. But, if there was one thing life had taught Spencer Reid, son of Diana Reid and the Greek goddess of wisdom and war, it was that nothing was fair.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
